


This is an Emergency

by butimnotdeadyet



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Len pokes fun at Laurel, bc he's kinda a dick, little bloody, only slight Cap Can, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:24:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7117462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butimnotdeadyet/pseuds/butimnotdeadyet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mick is bleeding, Len needs cayenne pepper, and Sara just woke up. <br/>The Rogues run into a little trouble on a job in Star City and Len resorts to help from a local contact.</p>
<p>In an AU where they have worked together in the past, Waverider never happened, and Sara and Len have both been dead at least one time fewer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is an Emergency

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Guess what I still don't own. Yep, you're right. Everything.

_ Knock. Knock. KNOCK. _

Sara swore as she stumbled her way towards the apartment door, head swimming after being woken up harshly from where she had passed out on the couch following a night of barkeeping and rooftop leaping. She hoped that whoever was on the other side of the door was in great need, because, otherwise they would most likely find themselves disemboweled in the near future.

 

The knocking, constant from the time it started, faltered for a moment and Sara heard scuffling on the far side. Two men, two voice; one gruff and strained, the other low and concerned. There was a thud against the wooden panels before Sara heard an all-too-familiar snarl.

“Lance! Open up!”

_ Snart. _ What the hell did he think he was doing  _ here _ ?

 

She jumped forward, closing the gap between her and the door quickly and twisting the handling open with enough force that the man leaning heavily on it from the other side was only saved from falling to the floor by his partner’s arm around his waist. Said partner took the weight shift in stride, barreling through the foyer and into the living room while tossing his demented form of greeting at her over his shoulder. 

“I need your help.”

 

Sara’s eyes flicked down, following the splatter of blood now adorning the previously pale green rug that was laid in front of the couch she had just evacuated and that now held a fuming, sweating arsonist. She stealed herself. “Snart, you can’t be here. I don’t know-”

 

“Cayenne pepper? Do you have any?” He leaned down, lifted the hem of Mick’s shirt as he did so, revealing a bullet wound large enough that even Sara grimaced. “Rubbing alcohol, too, and whatever you have around to wrap a wound.” Leonard glanced back up at her from his crouched position in front of his partner, verifying what he assumed- she still stood just the the right of the door. “Sara, the pepper! We need it now!”

 

She blinked and growled a remark that he was sure was something far from kind, but didn’t waste his focus on figuring out what exactly was said. When he could make out the sound of the blonde rooting through the cabinets, he called out again.

“I don’t suppose your addict sister keeps painkillers in the house, does she?”

Mick slapped Snart’s hand away from where it was poking at the inflamed skin around the entry point before grinding out his own question. “Or booze, she got any o’ that?”

 

They both made out Sara’s scoff from across the way before she drew Snart’s attention with a brusk  _ ‘Crook’  _ and pelted a seasoning bottle at his head, only to scoff again when his bloodied hand shot up just in time to catch it before it made contact with his temple.

 

“Recovering addict. And no, she doesn’t. But I can always pop over to the neighbors if you ask nicely. First, though, I’m going to reiterate that  _ you shouldn’t be here. _ I did what you paid me to do, and I am damn well sure that turning my sister’s place- which you  _ shouldn’t even know about _ , by the way- into an emergency room was not part of the deal.” She said as she pushed her sleep-mussed hair out of her eyes with a glare. She was being difficult and they both knew it, but it would only last until she knew her professional rep wouldn’t be taking a hit for helping her on-again-off-again . . . associate.

“Well,” Snart started in clipped tone as he poured a heavy helping of the powder into the wound and she came back with the antiseptic and a dozen bandages in tow, “this is me asking nicely.” He opted to ignore the latter half of her outburst and was treated with what he could only hope was the sound of Sara slamming the door on her way to break into the next apartment’s liquor stock and not the sound of her leaving him to hold his friend’s insides together and wait for the cops to crash through the door.

 

Mick let out another groan as his partner forced him onto his side, allowing access to the exit wound just below his left kidney and packing it with pepper as well, “It's fine, Snart, let's just keep moving.”

“We keep moving, you keeping bleeding. You keep bleeding and we’re not making it out of Star City.” Leonard wrenched the top off of the alcohol and doused one of the bandages before pressing a hand against the other man’s hip, holding him in place. He quickly secured the sopping cloth against the front-facing wound, bidding his time before the pepper on the rear side had long enough to properly staunch the blood flow and dodging a poorly thrown fist from Mick as the disinfecting sting burned into the arsonist abdomen.

 

Seconds later he felt a body press against his side and watched as Sara, still barefoot and eyes not  _ really _ awake yet, used small, deft hands pried open the furiously shaking fists that had started to creep dangerously close to his own unprotected throat and force an already opened bottle of vodka between the digits. Mick took a massive swig before Sara forced it away again. 

“God, he better have a high tolerance”, Leonard caught her mumble as she force two nondescript white pills between Mick’s clenched teeth and lead the bottle back to his lips to wash them down. He couldn’t help the short laugh that slipped out as he twisted to a new soaked cloth to the exit wound, “Don’t worry, one of his greatest strengths is staying alert in . . . demanding situations. Next to maiming people, it's one of his most desireable criminal traits.”

 

He turned to she her eyebrows knit together and he sighed, “He’ll go for Hellraiser to damn near comatose in a matter a seconds, but somehow he’s only ever really managed to blackout when it’s inconvenient to  _ me,  _ personally. Too many museum stake outs solo while he’s in the back room of some dive, sleeping it off on a bed of beer crates.” Snart rolled his eyes cleaned out the holes one more time and padded them with a few of the remaining bandages before settling back on his heels with a deep breath. 

 

Sara relaxed next to him, taking up a perch on the coffee table and pulling out her phone out of a deep pocket in her sweats.    
“Just got a news alert, and it looks like you guys are the hot topic. Does breaking into SCPD relate to me getting sensitive info out a mob enforcer last month? Or are you two-timing me again, Len Snart?”

The crook turned to her a treated her with his signature smirk, eyes catching hers for a split second before blinking away again, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Canary, though I may not have been as forthcoming as usual about this job, or the last several Mick and I have done, for that matter.” He shrugged but continued before she could sink her teeth into the topic, “Got any surgical thread lying around?” 

She sighed, noting his evasion but allowing that there would be many hours to revisit the idea later, and pulled herself back up, walking out and returning less than a minute later with the desired thread and an accompanying needle in hand. “Would I ever not, Leonard?” She implored rhetorically before setting to work on the tattered flesh. 

 

He caught himself just in time to prevent the smile that was bubbling up to the surface. He knew he had made the right call, knew that she was their best bet in this God-forsaken city even when he was hauling his near-deadweight partner up the flight are far-too-steep stairs to avoid the camera in the elevator. Still, it was a fantastic feeling to imagine that maybe he and Mick’s recent, and as of yet unrecognized, change of career wouldn’t mean that  _ all  _ of their bridges would burn; that perhaps the woman who already lived between the lines- part beloved vigilante, part widely feared muscle for hire- wouldn’t mind a little more company, wouldn’t mind teaching some reformed miscreants how to put their skills to good use outside of revealing shrouded police-mob affiliations. 

 

Snart glanced down at his thoroughly inebriated partner and wondered if the blonde would be willing to teach them how to keep the good guys from shooting at them in the meantime. 

**Author's Note:**

> Four unfinished fics in my drive, ten self-prompts on my list, and I instead opt to right a new one-shot. Whatever, it happens.  
> Inspired by a scene in Prison Break 2.03, though Sara is infinitely more awesome than Michael's green card bride. 
> 
> The cayenne thing is real, even if actual medical attention is better. But hey, they are wanted felons.
> 
> Comments are welcome and appreciated!


End file.
